My little Robin
by J. Todd
Summary: An interesting thought I had. Chapter 3 up finally. Rated T cause I don't know all the rules about language.
1. Dead birdy

It's been about a year since he realized what he is, who he is, since that time his entire life has been an obsessive drive towards this moment. Well, this and those to come right? _Yes_ he thinks to himself _that's right. Still gotta face the old man. That ought to be fun._ He almost winces at the thought. _That isn't important now_, he tells himself as he pushes it aside into some dark corner or other. _The important thing is that you're back, you're home. _As he steps out of the gate the young man glances quickly about the airport terminal; the large windows promise an interesting view of the city and as the taxi he called from the plane won't be there for a while he decides to take a look.

_Breathtaking_, He thinks, _sounds pretty corny but it's true. Gotham is an incredible city to look at. _A frown tugs at the corners of his mouth as a sullen thought creeps inside his head, tearing through his already tenuous good mood. _Barely gives a hint of the thieves, murderers and horribly disfigured psychopaths running loose in the streets. _

"HEEEEELLLPP! SOMEONE, HE TOOK MY PURSE!!!" A scream comes suddenly from behind the young man and shatters his silent musings. _Not ten minutes back and already on the clock, _the young man would be amused if he wasn't so disgusted. A quick look behind is all it takes to assess the situation. There is a man, dressed in a simple sweatshirt and jeans running full speed in his direction, the few other people standing in the terminal are doing just that, standing; some pretend they didn't hear the woman's cry for help, others deliberately look away but the worst, the worst watch every second and simply stare on callously. "Useless bastards," the young man mutters to himself "won't lift a damn finger to help somebody."

The man in the grey sweatshirt continued to run, now assured of his escape. He came closer and closer to the young man's window but seemed to take no notice of his presence there. Until it was called to his attention, "Hey," the young man shouted as the thief ran past. Stupidly, the purse snatcher turned his head towards the direction of the word and it was promptly met with a crisp right cross. The crook didn't even have the chance to stumble, he was just down. In the same fluid movement as the punch, the young man grabbed the purse from the hands of the collapsing thief. Upon glancing in the direction the scream had come from the young samaritan now observed a very large, very out of breath woman was running towards him and the would be purse snatcher. Out of politeness he decided to meet her halfway. "Here you are ma'am," he said in the best cheerful voice he could muster as he held out her purse "I believe this belongs to you."

"Give me that!" the woman shouted as she snatched away her purse. Breathing heavily, she then cast her eyes upon the unmoving figure of the thief. "He (huff) isn't moving (huff) is he…?" She let the question hang. The young man, still shocked by the woman's lack of gratitude looked back to the man lying on the floor and then back at her. "Out cold." Was all he could think to reply. At this the woman gave an insincere thank you and turned away muttering to herself. "No good useless degenerate, the shit of society and they run the whole fucking city, only one who helps me is some damned punk kid, damn useless…" She continued on until she was out of earshot.

The young man stared after her until she disappeared around a corner. _Nice, _he thought to himself, _some homecoming. _As he made his way though the slate grey airport hallways to the passenger pick up area he replayed the events of the afternoon in his mind. His cab still hadn't arrived so he took a seat on a nearby bench and looked out at the city. _Gotham at sunset, _as he took in the view he thought to himself _this is the Gotham I know. I'm home, that's all that maters now. I'm home and I can set things right. Screw that old fat lady, this is my city. _As he sat on the bench, the darkness gathered around him providing a familiar cold comfort and one last thought passed through his mind as he sat.

_Welcome home, Jason. Welcome home. _


	2. Home

**Chapter Two: **Home

**Disclaimers: **Seriously? I mean you really have to ask?

"Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering - and it's all over much too soon."

Woody Allen

Time, that's what it was, there never seemed to be enough time. Before Jason had returned to Gotham life had seemed to drag past at a snail's pace, slower even. There was so much he needed to do once he had realized who he was but so much of it required a seemingly endless amount of waiting. He had nothing but time then but now there was just never enough.

Jason was eighteen, nineteen… somewhere around there anyway. That's right isn't it? Not sure, never sure anymore. That doesn't matter, none of it matters, I don't matter, there's another now, more important, more real… NO! Can't think that way, I'm alive, I'm real, I matter, there is a reason for me… a purpose… there must be… right?

The hotel room was small and dark, not the greatest of places but it suited Jason's needs well enough. He had been living in New York when he had realized who he was, so he was used to small rooms. Small… dirty… smelly… disgusting rooms, this one wasn't too bad as rooms went when he thought of it that way. _No _he thought to himself _not really,_ and it wasn't really, it had all of his necessities. Sink, toilet, shower, bed, mirror, closet and a desk. All a little worse for the wear but functional. The point was that it was cheap and he was home. All the things that he had needed cost money, a lot of money in some cases. That was okay though; his friend Blue was paying for it all.

Though Jason's memories prior to realizing who he was were fuzzy, he remembered this though: Skyler Blue was a friend. Beyond that a friend with money, or more accurately a friend whose parents had money. Skyler was nineteen and lived by himself in a high rise apartment in Manhattan. All of his wants and needs were taken care of by a trust fund that his parents had set up before… something. _He never did say what happened to his parents did he? _Jason pondered to himself _No, only that they were gone. I wonder if he even knew what happened to them. He did say he'd been alone a long time before we met. Must have been real long, he had some…interesting tendencies. _The lone figure in the small hotel room opened his lone piece of luggage as he reminisced. _Skyler is the only reason I'm here _he thought to himself as he pulled his various garments from the large black duffle bag on the bed, _fits I guess since I'm kinda the only reason he's anywhere. _Throwing his clothes into loosely organized piles Jason thought back to the night he and Skyler had met.

It was a terrible night, the rain was falling in sheets so heavy that the gutters in the curbs had become like rivers. Jason was in an alley, he'd been there forever standing barefoot and naked in filth. It was dark there, so dark, and dirty and the whole place reeked of piss, shit, puke and cheap whisky. Jason had been wondering why he didn't just leave the alley, when they had come in from the street. Two men entered from around the corner, one was smaller, wearing dark clothes with shaggy black hair and looked to Jason as if he'd want to kill himself even if there hadn't been someone present who was seemingly more than willing to do it for him. The larger man had a gun pressed into the smaller man's chest and was demanding everything he had. Neither had noticed Jason at all. "Your wallet rich boy, give me your wallet!" the large man demanded, shouting nearly at the top of his lungs. The so called rich boy said nothing and made no movement seemingly transfixed by something off in the distance. The large man moved closer now looming over the small, dark young man. "You mother…" Jason had seen enough. Before the mugger could finish his sentence Jason was on him. He hadn't even had time to register Jason's presence before he was struck three swift blows. Stomach, jaw, throat. Jason's attack was meant to hurt the attacker enough in a short period of time that he became dazed and the depressed looking young man could get away. Unfortunately the thug could handle more than Jason thought and the victim was still just standing there. "Shit" was all that Jason had time to say before he was pistol whipped across the face. Another heavy blow landed on the back of his head before his instincts kicked in and he rolled to the side. "Bastard!" He yelled as he again faced his opponent, who had apparently just realized he was fighting a naked teenager in a filthy, rain soaked alley because he looked completely dumbfounded. Jason's fists landed hard against the thug's face, knocking teeth loose and badly splitting the man's lower lip. Jason was furious, furious that he underestimated the man, furious that the victim hadn't run, furious that he had been hit so hard and furious at himself for almost letting a nothing like this beat him. He kept hitting the man and hitting him and hitting him until his face was pulverized and he was bleeding so much that Jason could hardly tell he was looking at a man anymore. He hit him until he blacked out himself and all the while that damned depressed looking bastard just stood there staring at nothing.

_Hmph, _Jason dropped to sit on the edge of the bed near his bag. _Maybe I don't deserve this anymore. _He looked at the last object remaining in his bag, what appeared almost to be a large black sheet wrapped around one of the few good things that Jason had now.

_Of course you do, _he thought to himself_ Dick thought you did, you made a mistake…okay a lot of mistakes but you can still make everything alright again. If you can just get Bruce to accept you, to forgive you, then it will all be okay and we can be a family. _As he reassured himself Jason pulled the sheet out of his bag and began to unwrap it,

_there is a reason I'm back, a purpose for my existence here, this has to be it right? I know that there's a new guy but I'm not asking for his spot. _Jason's hands began to tremble as he finished unwrapping the deep black cape from his new costume and caught a glimpse of the dark red shirt held within. Jason traced the edge of the R insignia on the upper left side of the shirt before unfolding the one thing that had been packed in his bag with care.

_I just want mine back._


	3. First flight of a robin

He's never really liked winter. The suit gets cold, besides it reminds him of home and that's just something better left alone. Robin has been sitting for about an hour or so now and he's starting to get antsy, the snow building up around his crouching form isn't helping anything either. From the rooftop that he's perched upon, he can make out at least four figures in the alley below. His breath is a visible tiny puff of steam as he watches the scene below him unfold. Three of the men have obviously been waiting for a while, judging by the snow piled up on their car and their irritated demeanors and the other, well Robin had chased him there. His name is Joe or Johnny or some generic thug name like that, he's not too bright really and often hires himself out as muscle for bigger fish; as such he's had more than a few run-ins with the silent figure now sitting unnoticed on the ledge overlooking the alley. This time the boy wonder had found him holding up an old couple trying to make their way home. Actually there was a new gun running outfit in Gotham, operating out of Metropolis. This guy had been sloppy and Batman had easily identified him as a seller for the group, Robin had been watching to find out who the higher ups were for weeks. When he tried to mug that old couple Robin had been forced to blow his cover but it was looking like that was going to work out for him. Right now Joe/Johnny was talking with one of the three other men.

He'd started to become less and less composed and his looks were darting between all three of them so it was difficult to tell just who he was working for.

"C'mon, you bastard" the young man on the ledge muttered to himself "show me who's in charge, tell me who to hit."

At that last bit the young man chuckled a little, he knew very well he was going to hit all of them, what he really needed to know was which one to leave conscious.

The snow was settling too thickly around him, he thought, it made the cape feel like it was constricting around his body. He shifted a little and muttered a silent curse at whoever came up with snow as he shook it from his body. The sudden sound of shouting jerked the uncertain Robin's attention back to the alley quickly enough for him to see everyone pull guns but not quite quick enough for him to figure out who was running things.

"Oh well" he sighed "guess I'd better go ask 'em." With that he leapt from the rooftop prepared to fall what was easily three or four stories to the alley below, arms spread wide open Robin couldn't help but grin at the feeling, almost like flight and upon seeing the conflict below growing closer ever more rapidly one thought crept into his mind"this is gonna be fun."

-

Joey was a nice enough guy; he thought so at least, was it his fault that no one would hire him? Not really, and could he help it if the easiest available ways for him to make some cash were illegal? Certainly not. Robin never seemed to see it that way though.

Joey had never seen the Batman, hell he wasn't even sure the freak existed, but he'd had his ass handed to him enough times by that damned kid to know he was fuckin' real enough. Tonight the bird boy had caught Joey "liberating funds" from a couple of old geezers, its not like it was a big deal they're old what do they need to buy? Walker polish and Metamucil? Joey had thought that he made a good point. Again Robin had seen things differently; Joey's jaw still ached where Robin had made his counter point.

After Joey had been hit he had taken off running, he was sure that the bird brain thought that he was just scared and trying desperately to get away. Not this time, oh no, this time he had friends, this time he knew people who would help him. Robin didn't stand a chance.

Joey burst into the alley where he was supposed to meet his new employers, unfortunately upon his arrival in said alley he observed the piled snow on their car and remembered that the meeting was supposed to have taken place several hours earlier. Nevertheless he was certain that they would still help him, they had to, they needed him to get their stuff on the streets.

"Boss," Joey gasped, tired from his run through the snow, "Boss you…you gotta…ta help me."

There were three men in the alley; Joey had only met one before the tall man standing furthest to the left was the one that Joey had come to know only as "Boss" recently. All three of the men wore fine Italian business suits covered by long London Fog overcoats and topped it of with nice sunglasses of a brand Joey couldn't identify. The only real difference in their appearances was their hair. These were important guys and Joey knew it.

The boss opened his mouth, "you're late Joey." Was all that he said, the two men standing beside him said nothing but mirrored the angry stare on the face of the boss.

"I… it was Ro…Robin," Joey stammered nervously. "Y'know that kid they say runs with the Batman."

The boss shifted in his shoes a bit at this, he looked shaken for a moment but swiftly regained his composure. "The Batman?" his tone was less questioning than threatening, "Joey, you dumb piece of shit! You led the Batman here! Straight to us!"

Joey looked confused, "no boss, no" he hurried in a panicked voice, "not the bat, not the bat, just the kid, we can take the kid!" Joey was frightened for his life now, his wide eyes darting wildly at each of the three men before him; each one his potential executioner.

The boss stared at Joey for a few tense moments, visibly attempting to take control of his anger. Suddenly an air of calm seemed to overtake him as he came to a decision about the situation at hand. Slowly and calmly the boss reached into his jacket and took hold of something in the inside pocket. As he drew it he said simply, "Kill him."

At this the two men standing to the boss's side drew their guns from their own coats and took aim on Joey. Seeing this Joey shouted in panic and drew his own pistol from his jeans.

Before any of the men could get a shot off the figure of a colorfully dressed young man dropped to the ground in between them cloaked in a deep black cape.

The event was enough to stun the men for a few moments. One of the previously silent men who had been standing with the boss shouted in surprise, "It's him! It's Robin!" and began shooting wildly. Shots rang out loudly as the figure of the caped young man darted swiftly from one side of the alley to the other, narrowly avoiding the searing sting of hot lead with each skillful movement.

With the skill that could seemingly come only from a man who had spent his entire life training for this moment the cloaked youth dispatched the first attacker; screams of pain echoed through the alley drowning out the dull crack of his arm breaking. Before the first gun sank into the snow covered alley floor the second gunman did, knocked unconscious by a thick-soled leather boot to the nose. As suddenly as the assault had begun it seemed to end; Joey stood stock still, eyes darting around the alley in a panic, trying desperately to locate his caped assailant. The only sound was that of Joey's breathing intermingling with that of the boss's, both heavy with fear. After a few tense moments the boss visibly began to regain his composure, straightening his suit and jacket he gave the alley a final once over, as if to assure himself that Robin was in fact gone. Seeing no sign of him the boss glanced carefully at Joey, the idiot was still shaking, with fear or cold, it didn't matter which.

"Just a waste of skin" the boss thought to himself as he again raised his gun to kill the imbecile who had caused such an undue amount of stress tonight. A wry grin formed unconsciously on his face as he softly said to his victim, "Sorry Joey, but you're just more trouble than you're worth." At the moment he began to squeeze the trigger a hand clad in a thick black glove grabbed his wrist while its twin struck the underside of his outstretched arm at the elbow. The boss howled in pain as he drew back his arm, which now bent in the reverse of its natural direction.

The commotion caused Joey to whip around quickly, without thinking he fired, and sent two slugs flying straight into his boss's chest. "Oh shit!" Joey's words nearly mirrored the thoughts of his fatally wounded employer as he lay bleeding on the ground, his seeping blood turning the surrounding snow a horrible pink-red. "H-help… m-m-me Joey!" came the bosses pleading cough but Joey couldn't think, all his panicking brain could come up with was to run but in turning he found himself face to face with a pair of very angry looking masked eyes. Joey yelped in surprise before slowly realizing something "y-you're not Ro…" before he could finish the masked man cut him off, "Your boss is going to die," the masked young man stated in a grave sounding voice, "What do you think will happen to you if HIS bosses find out it was you who killed him?"

"You killed 'im!" Joey shouted "You did!" the masked figure smiled as he said simply "Robin doesn't use guns."

"You ain't Robin!" Joey's shrill scream pierced the Gotham night air "You ain't no Robin I ever seen!" At this the self-proclaimed Robin became visibly upset; his tone became angrier as he struggled to keep control of his temper. "Your best bet now," he attempted, "is to go to the police and name names, see if you can get a deal, some…protection maybe." The dark Robin's voice was less threatening, taking on an air of forced compassion. Joey was thrown for a moment but only a moment before he regained his senses, he had just seen this freak take out three guys without a hint of compassion, he had to be up to something. "Fuck you freak!" Joey yelled as he raised his gun to the young man's masked face, unfortunately for Joey his clip was empty, he had used up most of the bullets firing wildly in the alley and the last two in his boss.

For a moment the young man claiming to be Robin hesitated in obvious shock, his eyes seemingly transfixed by something off in the distance but quickly he regained his senses. With a speed obviously fueled by anger he knocked the pistol from Joey's hand, sending it clattering into the alley wall and in one fluid movement dashed his head against the same wall knocking him unconscious. The young man stood silently for a moment before checking Joey's pulse and, upon finding that he was alive, pulling a grapple gun from within the folds of his cape and taking off into the blindingly snow filled sky.

-

Upon a rooftop overlooking the alley Robin looked at the unconscious body of the man he had chased to the meeting in disbelief, he had stopped his fall with his own grapple gun when he saw someone else drop into the middle of the ill fated meeting. The stranger had dispatched each thug quickly, efficiently and brutally then simply leapt into the night sky. It wasn't as if he'd never seen anything like it, he was Robin after all, it was where he'd seen it that sent shivers up his spine. Suddenly he remembered the gunshot victim on the ground below. He ran back to the edge of the building that faced the alley and jumped down touching a small radio earpiece on his way down. "Oracle?" he asked to the night air, "You there?" A voice crackled back from the other end

"Yes Tim, I'm here," the voice reassured him before inquiring "that thug give you any leads on the gunrunners?" Tim landed softly in the thick snow below and ran over to the unmoving body of the thug who'd been shot. "Not exactly, someone broke up the party before I could, do you have my tracer on-line?" the thug looked pretty messed up, his left arm was broken badly at the elbow and he had taken two shots directly in the chest. "I do now," Oracle replied, "why?" Tim crouched to take the man's pulse though he was fairly certain that there wasn't any point to it. "I need you to lock onto this location and send an ambulance, I've got three unconscious and…" Tim hesitated for a moment "and one dead." There was silence on the other end of the earpiece for a moment before Oracle spoke again, "it's on the way. Who…?" Oracle didn't finish the question but Tim understood what she was asking, he was asking himself the same thing. "I don't know who it was" Tim said solemnly and perhaps just a bit afraid, "but…" again he hesitated "he looked almost…like me."


End file.
